Duels of Honour: Giving the Lie
by WarlordFil
Summary: The Sangheili leadership visits Earth, where a jealous Rtas 'Vadum clashes with Usze 'Taham over history that won't stay buried! First story of a duology. Contains male/male relationships. COMPLETE.
1. Chapter 1: Suspicions

**Duels of Honour: Giving the Lie**

Author's note:

This story contains spoilers for "Cross Blades," "Twin Blades" and "Taking the Steel."

It is set after "Mercenary Hearts," but does not contain spoilers for that story much beyond those you'll already find in "Cross Blades."

"Mercenary Hearts" is still in edits, so I decided to begin putting this up in the meantime.

This story – and/or Mercenary Hearts – will update monthly.

I feel that updating monthly, regularly, is better than trying to update weekly and putting out a sub-par story or constantly being late.

"Duels of Honour" is a duology, composed of two related stories. "Giving the Lie" is the first of those two. Both have several chapters.

Enjoy! I appreciate reviews, even if it's simply to say you enjoy the stories.

**Chapter the First: Suspicions**

Usze 'Taham, Senior Sangheili Ambassador to Earth, stood on the tarmac of the Human airbase, waiting for Admiral Rtas 'Vadum's Phantom to land. His cream-coloured pearly armour shone in the sun; his doarmir-fur cloak fluttered in the breeze. He wished he could feel the cool air through the face-covering assault helmet that he wore. He shifted his weight to his right leg and tucked his cane behind his back; he'd need it eventually, but he didn't want Rtas' first impression of him to be one of pity.

Six months after the final Battle of the Halos, the Arbiter had returned to Earth, with his bondmate Rtas by his side, to continue to forge relations between the Sangheili and the Humans. In the upcoming weeks, Usze knew that the Arbiter would be speaking to the Human governments with a goal to opening trade, limited travel, and further diplomatic ties, including the appointment of the first Human ambassadors to Sanghelios.

Right now, though, the carrier _Shadow of Intent_, piloted by the infamous Shipmaster Fil Storamy, had been cleared to an orbit around Earth. The Arbiter's first stop was in Kenya, where so much of the final battle had been fought. Usze's husband, Junior Ambassador N'tho 'Sraom, had flown to Africa to greet the Arbiter's Phantom there.

Usze was not entirely pleased with the idea. He didn't like to let N'tho out of his sights. N'tho had once had quite a reputation for sleeping around, and he also had a tendency to let senior officers push him around. N'tho had once borne a Mark of Punishment due to his grandfather's cowardice, and so there was a reason for his weaknesses, but Usze still worried that N'tho would return to his old habits without Usze around to keep him in line.

Usze, unlike N'tho, was very good at controlling himself.

At least the Arbiter—who had a bit of a reputation himself—had a bondmate now. Usze hoped the crew of his Phantom were similarly paired off…

He gritted his mandibles. He had to learn to _trust his mate_. N'tho had been nothing but faithful since he'd put his bracelet around N'tho's wrist six months ago…

_…how hard is that on an alien world where the only other Sangheili are N'tho's father Piro, Piro's wife, and two little girls? Even Nitro won't cross the species line, and there are no eligible Sangheili, male or female, anywhere around…_

…until now.

Usze clenched his hand into a fist around his cane, wondering to the gods why it was so hard for him to have a little faith.

As the Phantom's door opened, he realized that he no longer believed in the gods.

*

Rtas 'Vadum straightened his armour and wished to all the Ancestors that he, and the Arbiter, were back in their home in Iruiru rather than here on Earth.

Rtas would be the first to admit that he didn't particularly like Earth, or its dominant species, the Humans. He could not deny that the Humans had their particular skills, and that they even possessed some admirable traits, but he just didn't like them. Their short necks, stubby fingers, and flat faces were grotesque; he shuddered at the idea of having _hair_, like a Brute. They chattered like animals, always sticking their noses into everything. They were rude, so disrespectful to their superiors, so forward and self-important. And the _smell_…

Rtas took a deep breath. Prejudices aside, there was another reason he didn't want to be on Earth.

He and the Arbiter hadn't had a lot of personal time together lately. The dual challenges of rebuilding a society at home and conducting a war against the surviving Brutes and the renegade Sangheili under Admiral Xytan 'Jar Wattin were exhausting. And then…

…breeding season.

It was every adult Sangheili's responsibility to mate at least once every other year. Rtas hated breeding season because he didn't like females. Not that he didn't respect them as people—he was on good enough terms with Fil Storamy, for instance—but he just didn't find them sexually attractive. To have to grit his teeth and mate with them was disgusting to him. Trying to find a sympathetic female was a real challenge, and even if he did…well…

He didn't expect his friendship with Fil to survive unscathed.

But mating season was not a new problem for him. He'd found it unpleasant ever since he came of age.

No, his concern with mating season this year was the Arbiter. The Arbiter had never had any trouble with females. Quite the opposite. The Arbiter liked females as much as he liked males. And as the acting Sangheili leader until the Council's vote next year, the Arbiter's services were very much in demand. It was enough to make the Arbiter's mate very…

…very…

…_jealous_.

Rtas tried to tell himself that the breeding law had not yet been repealed, and the Arbiter was simply fulfilling his duty as a Sangheili…

…but surely he didn't have to enjoy it so much, or so often.

Rtas 'Vadum tried not to be envious or petty, but surely it was not too much to ask for a few evenings alone with his mate? Evenings where his mate was actually awake and paying attention to him, not exhausted from breeding? Was it too much to expect the Arbiter to share what he was doing, with whom, and why? Or to save a little energy for his very neglected bondmate?

Rtas wished for evenings where he did not have to sleep in a cold bed and comfort himself with dreams…and as of late, his dreams had been of his deceased mate Kusovai. Kusovai, who considered Rtas the sun of his world, the heart of all he held dear… Kusovai who never let females distract him from his mate for more than an hour or so…

Rtas licked the stumps of his mandibles. This sort of thinking was not becoming of an admiral. His concern should belong to his fleets and his warriors, not his own personal life. His thoughts should be on Earth now, and its people, and the Sangheili that were stationed here as Ambassadors.

The door of the Phantom opened, revealing a pearl-armoured figure on the tarmac. Rtas squinted his eyes as he stepped off the ship. The other Sangheili wasn't tall enough to be N'tho, or old enough to be N'tho's mentor, Piro, and it was male, so it wasn't the nurse, Kya. It had to be Usze 'Taham.

Rtas was somewhat confused by the colour of Usze's armour, which was a warmer shade from the stark-white of Rtas' armour, but still pale. Sangheili culture had long considered white to be the colour of death; only those who qualified for the rank of Ultra were permitted to wear the shade of death itself. The fact that many Humans considered white to be a colour of peace was just another odd thing about _Homo sapiens_. The Councillors had settled on the creamy pearl colour as being enough like white to satisfy the Humans while being distinct enough from Ultra armour to keep the Ultras happy.

Rtas looked over the outfit appraisingly, and was about to open his mouth to greet Usze when the wind lifted Usze's cloak, and the words died in his throat.

*

Rtas 'Vadum was staring at him.

Usze 'Taham was surprised, and grateful for the helmet that hid any outward sign of his reaction. The reaction that always seemed to afflict him in Admiral Vadum's company. He turned his head, as if soaking in the beauty of the scene around him, while sliding his eyes sideways to watch the approaching Admiral.

Yes, the Admiral was definitely checking him out. Usze could feel the heat from the flush that rose to his face. He'd become used to N'tho's appreciative gazing—and the suggestive comments that usually accompanied it. In fact, he'd learned to love that kind of attention from his husband. The difference here, though, was that Rtas 'Vadum was assuredly not his husband.

Usze didn't want the fallout from a diplomatic incident if the Arbiter came to suspect that Rtas had a thing for Usze. Worse, though, was the fact that Usze had always believed that Rtas was an honourable man. The Arbiter was the one with the reputation for casual mating, not Rtas. He prayed to the Ancestors that he was wrong, and that he simply had his mind in the gutter from worrying about N'tho.

But Rtas was still gawking at him.

And his mind began wandering down roads untaken long ago.

By the Rings! Enough was enough. Usze looked Rtas straight in the eyes and said, "Welcome to Earth, Admiral. Is there any way in which I can be of assistance to you?"

Rtas cocked his head. His voice sounded strange—thick, almost choked—as he asked, "It's a pleasure, Ambassador 'Taham…but if I may ask…where did you get that cloak?"

"This?" Usze lifted the edge of the purple doarmir fur. "It was a gift."

A gift from N'tho. N'tho had kept the cloak on his bunk aboard _Shadow of Intent _and used it as a blanket. Usze had a very fond memory of gentle mating atop the cloak's soft fur, and under its warming embrace, and while it knotted into tangles around their legs…

But that had been only a single encounter, because then the Ascetics had taken Nitro prisoner, using him as bait to lure Usze into a trap. The Ascetic Order had not taken kindly to the Arbiter's actions as Sangheili leader, and they had ordered Usze to assassinate him; when Usze had refused, they'd put out a contract on his life.

Usze had worn the cape in an attempt to hide his distinctive claret armour while he moved through the corridors of _Shadow of Intent_ to Fil Storamee's storeroom. He had intended to ask her for Minor Domo armour in an attempt to hide from the Ascetics within the fleet, until he learned that the Ascetics had N'tho captive. Fil had come up with the idea of loaning Usze her gravity hammer, smuggling it into the oncoming battle by shortening the handle and hiding the weapon under the doarmir cloak.

The cloak had gotten a bit sliced during that battle, and then soaked with blood, when the renegades got ahold of the hammer and used it to crush Usze's leg. N'tho had used the cloak as a bandage while Usze, N'tho, N'tho's father Piro, and the nurse Kya Pomor had fled _Shadow of Intent_ for Earth. When Usze had finally awoken after cryo-sleep, surgery, and a few days of sedation, N'tho had given him the cloak—rinsed-out and stitched-up, only moderately worse for the wear.

_I want you to have it_, N'tho had said.

It was shorter now—only ankle-height, where before it had dragged on the floor behind him. The ragged edge had been cut off, and the excess fabric used to patch the holes which Toha 'Sumai's sword had gouged in it. It was no longer as regal and imposing as it had been before.

Granted, neither was Usze.

Usze walked with a cane and a pronounced limp, and would for the rest of his life. There was a time when he would have preferred death to the disgrace of life as a cripple. But when N'tho looked at him, all the other Sangheili saw was the hero who had saved his life. N'tho's boundless affection made Usze's life worthwhile.

Rtas' eyes narrowed. "Do you fancy yourself a Supreme Commander, Usze 'Taham?" He tilted his head. "That's a Fleet Master's cloak."

Was that Rtas' problem? The colour? Since when had Rtas of all people become so concerned about rank? "I fancy myself an Ambassador, Admiral 'Vadum. Sanghelios has not had Ambassadors to other planets since the coming of the Prophets, so there is no prescribed colour scheme for an Ambassador's cloak. However, it is Human custom to deck their ambassadors in finery. I apologize if you find the colour inappropriate, but as this is an alien world, I had precious little choice available to me."

Usze had never asked where, or how, N'tho had acquired a Fleet Master's cloak. A fine garment like this was beyond the means of a Minor Domo like N'tho. And the colour…

The cloaks were sold for a price that far exceeded the costs of the materials and craftsmanship—even though this particular cape was made of very fine fur indeed and stitched by a clever hand. The pricing was deliberate, so that a Sangheili of lower rank could not hope to afford such a garment, though a handful of lower-ranked Sangheili acquired the robes as gifts, or learned the skills to make their own.

To further set the elite apart, there were laws forbidding the lower ranks from owning cloaks in certain colours. Drab colours like brown and black were available to all; green was reserved for Priestesses, white for Councillors, yellow for Shipmasters…

Purple was the colour of only the highest echelon of the military.

It was no wonder that N'tho did not wear the cape. He would be sorely punished if he dared to try.

Usze suspected that the very incongruity of a Minor Domo possessing a Shipmaster's cloak was what had prevented anyone else from taking it away from him. Only the Ancestors knew the indignities that N'tho had suffered after being branded with the Mark of Punishment for his grandfather's crimes. Usze knew that certain other Sangheili had thought nothing of helping themselves to N'tho's rations, his armour, his personal belongings…

…but not the cloak. Doubtlessly they feared the wrath of whatever Commander had given it to him.

Rtas nodded and made a noncommittal "hm" noise under his breath. "We brought you a gift, Ambassador," he said, his voice brighter. "The Arbiter and I. He tells me that human food is very strange to our tastes, and we thought you might miss some of the delicacies from home. We brought what we thought would keep, for you and your associates to enjoy."

"My family," Usze said, gently but firmly. Every one of the six Sangheili who had permanent residence on Earth were linked by blood or marriage.

"Your family," Rtas repeated, smiling. His demeanor had changed entirely. This Rtas—secure in his own authority, firm yet kind—was the Rtas Usze had known.

As Usze introduced Rtas to the Human base commander, he wondered…what was it about his cloak that had upset Rtas so?


	2. Chapter 2: Assumptions

**Duels of Honour: Giving the Lie**

**Chapter the Second: Assumptions**

After a day of formal meetings with the Human leaders, Admiral Rtas 'Vadum found himself in a reasonably well-appointed guest room on the Human base. The Humans had tried their best, but they were used to catering to their own species. The chairs were the wrong shape for Sangheili—Rtas kept bumping his knees into the chairs' legs. There was a device that kept beverages chilled, which was a distasteful thought to a species that liked its drinks better warmed. The smell of Human pervaded even here. Rtas could have borne it all if only he had the Arbiter's company.

Now he lay alone in a king-size bed—the only size adequate for a Sangheili—and thought about Usze 'Taham and his exotic cloak.

Rtas had never been particularly fond of the former Blademaster, despite his respect for 'Taham's formidable fighting skills. Usze had not been a particularly friendly person. He did his job with unshaken reliability and consummate skill, but he was distant and self-absorbed, surrendering all but occasional glimpses of his personality in favour of presenting the image of the Ascetic Order's Ideal Warrior. And he modeled that perfection with all the arrogance the role could give him, looking down his nose at everyone who could not live up to his own unforgiving standards.

But the Ascetics had sided with the renegade 'Jar Wattin, whereas Usze had given his loyalty to the Arbiter in a move that had surprised almost everyone.

Whatever had caused Usze to split from the Ascetic Order, there had been consequences. Usze had been maimed in his escape from the fleet, and his position here on Earth was born out of necessity as much as merit—Earth was one of the few places where the Ascetics' assassins could not reach him. It was his good fortune he'd had some talent at the job.

Rtas frowned to himself. He was not entirely certain what had happened during Usze's escape, but he did know that one of the major players was Usze's fellow Ambassador, N'tho 'Sraom.

'Sraom and 'Taham couldn't be more different, except perhaps in their level of raw ability. 'Sraom had been one of Rtas' SpecOps warriors before he'd been marooned on Earth with Usze. 'Sraom had been enthusiastic, devoted, friendly…

…perhaps a little too friendly. 'Sraom was a slut even by SpecOps standards.

But Rtas was more interested in combat performance than by his warriors' personal tastes, as long as they kept their private lives private. The innovative thinking that he prized in a SpecOps warrior generated, by necessity, a squad of unorthodox eccentrics.

'Sraom had really pushed the limits though when he had blundered into an unwitting affair with Subcommander Rycl 'Otsed, who'd been the consort of one of 'Jar Wattin's sympathizers, Shipmaster Epse 'Gamul. Rtas had suspected that this was how N'tho had gotten mixed up in Usze's misfortune after the Halo mission had finished…

…though now that he thought of it, hadn't N'tho once mentioned to him that he and Usze had come to some sort of understanding during their tenure as the Arbiter's Honour Guards during the final Halo mission?

Impossible Rtas had seen the animosity between N'tho and Usze as they'd both written communications to him, complaining about the other's performance. Usze had described N'tho as "undisciplined," by which he meant "obnoxious, unreliable, and an embarrassment," whereas N'tho had essentially described Usze's interpersonal skills as somewhere between "abysmal" and "nonexistent."

How N'tho and Usze had managed to coexist on Earth without killing one another was a mystery to Rtas. He suspected most of the credit belonged to N'tho's friend and mentor, Piro 'Kipaz. But he supposed he was about to find out for himself.

In fact, there were quite a few things he had to find out, including what Usze was doing wearing a purple Fleet Master's cloak…the same sort of cloak the Arbiter had worn when he had been the Supreme Commander of the Fleet of Particular Justice.

And Usze and N'tho had been the Arbiter's Honour Guards during the final battle for the Halos.

_What_ had happened between Usze and the Arbiter on Earth to tempt Usze's fealty away from the Ascetic Order?

Rtas quivered, refusing to indulge in groundless speculation as he shoved an image from his mind…

…an image of the Arbiter tangled together with Usze 'Taham, each wearing only their helmets, locked in union under a single-sunned sky.

*

_The next evening_

Usze 'Taham had excused himself from dinner in order to greet the Arbiter and N'tho 'Sraom when their Phantom touched down. Now he stood alone on the tarmac, once again in his closed-face assault helmet, waiting. There was a chill in the air, and Usze missed the warmth of the doarmir-fur cloak.

He'd gone to put it on that morning, as usual, waiting for the soft caress of fur over the back of his neck to conjure up an image of Nitro pressed against him, purring softly. Instead, the feel of the cloak had brought to mind new, unpleasant images. Images of Nitro in intimate situations with some unknown Fleet Master. Had Nitro enjoyed it? Would it be better, or worse, if he hadn't?

Usze had shivered and torn the cloak off his neck.

The last thing he needed, while Nitro was halfway around the planet with a ship full of other Sangheili for company, was to have thoughts like these in his head. They would ruin his concentration utterly, and he needed to have his wits about him while he prepared for the Arbiter's arrival on base. He had left the cloak on his bunk; out of sight, out of mind.

Almost out of mind.

The Phantom's door opened, tearing Usze from his thoughts. In the gloom beyond the portal, a shape moved, and then N'tho 'Sraom stepped forward into the light. He hesitated in the doorway of the Phantom, scenting the wind, and Usze felt his breath catch in his throat.

Nitro had always been a well-muscled and powerful warrior, but his strength had been camouflaged by his demeanor. He had once had a habit of stooping, always making sure his own head was lower than those of his compatriots, a physical sign of submission to those who did not carry Marks of Punishment. That same Mark had regularly been interpreted as a license to abuse its bearer, and as a result, Usze had a terrible suspicion that Nitro had been underfed and overworked for far too long.

The final battle of the Halos, the defeat of Epse Gamul and Nitro's subsequent posting to Earth had changed him.

'Sraom was a Sangheili of authority on this planet, and his bearing now reflected it. He stood tall and proud in his pearl-white Ambassador's armour, a lord in his own keep. Human food might be strange to Sangheili tastes, but it was nutritious and Nitro got his fair share. Now Nitro had filled out, the gauntness in his frame gone, his skin gleaming instead of dull, his movements bursting with energy, his muscles powerful and sleek. Usze looked down at himself ruefully and noted that where Nitro now looked strong and well-nourished, Usze himself was beginning to carry excess fat.

Usze felt a spear stab at his heart. He was plump and crippled and old before his time—what good would he be to the grandson of a Kaidon who, liberated from his grandfather's curse, was finally coming into his own? What would happen when N'tho realized the full extent of the potential that had lain dormant within him? He watched Nitro breathe in the air like a Kaidon perusing his domain and he wondered, what did 'Sraom see in him now that his glory had passed?

And then the Arbiter stepped out to join N'tho in the doorway.

What a pair they made…the Arbiter in his prime, N'tho still young but already an Ambassador, already well on his way to becoming a match for the Arbiter…

What had Rtas said?

Usze was wearing a Fleet Master's Cloak.

It had been a gift from Nitro, which begged the question, where the hell had a shamed Minor Domo gotten something like that?

Usze gritted his mandibles, because Nitro's long list of lovers was _not _news to him, and he could have gotten it from _any _Fleet Master. The Covenant had had several battle fleets, so there were multiple candidates, and…

But staring on the tarmac looking up at N'tho and the Arbiter, side by side, Usze felt he already knew both Nitro's past, and his future.

*

N'tho's mandibles split into a grin as the wind finally brought him the scent he'd been waiting for.

He turned his head and there, standing on the tarmac, was Usze.

Nitro had spent the past two days Behaving Himself, and it hadn't been easy. Acting Ambassadorial, or Ambassadorish or whatever the proper word was, wasn't much fun at all. N'tho had been very excited to show the Arbiter and the crew of the Phantom all the great stuff he'd learned about during his past six months on Earth, but apparently, showing enthusiasm wasn't a proper trait for an Ambassador. Ambassadors were supposed to be all formal and precise and self-controlled, and so N'tho had bit down on his teeth, spoken calmly and slowly, and hoped that his long black cloak had hidden the occasional quiver or fidget that he couldn't quite control. He had no idea how Usze did it day after day, but he had been bound and determined to do his best, to make his mate proud of him.

His mate.

He couldn't believe he missed Usze this badly after only two days. His whole body literally ached. The Phantom's pilot and copilot were a bonded pair, and to watch them look at each other, and occasionally nuzzle each other, made N'tho's hearts ache with envy. He'd squinted his eyes and counted down the hours until he was home with Usze again.

Now, with his mate standing only a few meters away, Nitro could not Behave Himself any longer.

He bolted away from the startled Arbiter and barreled across the tarmac to throw his arms around Usze 'Taham.

N'tho thrust his muzzle under Usze's chin and took in a deep breath of the familiar, comforting, wonderful scent of his husband. He purred with sheer pleasure; it was so good to be home again.

Another little countdown started in the back of his head, this time marking the minutes until he was able to get Uzi alone…

But then his internal countdown suddenly paused.

Usze wasn't responding. He was just standing there, stiff, his arms hanging limply at his sides.

Was Uzi mad that Nitro was being affectionate in public? Ruining Uzi's "regal Ambassador" image? Or spoiling Nitro's own new respectability?

N'tho released his mate. "Sorry," he mumbled. He took a step back, and only then realized that Usze was wearing an assault helmet, completely obscuring his face.

Usze had previously worn a pearl-white combat helmet with his Ambassador armour. Damn it, Usze knew that Humans found it upsetting when they couldn't see the face of the person they were talking to; it was why all the Sangheili on Earth avoided helmets that hid their features. Why was Usze back in his old assault rig again?

N'tho wasn't sure, but he had a few ideas. Every once in a while, Uzi got a little insecure about his limp and his new role and his abandonment of the Ascetic Order. Usze had grown up in the Order, and Nitro was sure there was a little voice in the back of his head still telling him that a Real Sangheili was cool and controlled and emotionally distant—in short, a faithful adherent to the Ascetic's Code. Leaving the Order would not be enough to silence a lifetime of listening to that voice.

N'tho knew it, because there was a little voice in the back of his own head telling him that he was a failure and an embarrassment, whose only worth came from his willingness to grovel before his superiors. He had that voice after only a few years of bearing a Mark of Punishment. How much louder was Usze's after a lifetime as an Ascetic?

So N'tho swallowed down his hurt and tried to assess his mate's mood through that helmet. Usze's gaze seemed to be on the Arbiter.

Chagrined, N'tho looked back over his shoulder at the leader of their species. Maybe Usze didn't approve of public displays of affection in front of the Arbiter. Maybe that was the reason he was suddenly so cold.

The Arbiter was smiling down at the two of them. "You two go ahead," he said as he stepped out of the Phantom. "I will see you tomorrow morning." He nodded in the direction of the main terminal, where a welcoming party was on its way to greet him, including Piro and Kya and their two daughters.

'Sraom let out a breath of relief. Exonerated! He put his arm around Usze's shoulders.

Usze quivered. N'tho realized it was with cold, not excitement.

"Uzi, you're frozen. Where's your cloak?"

Usze said nothing, just stepped closer and placed his muzzle into N'tho's neck.

Nitro gathered his mate in, holding him, but he was becoming more and more uneasy. Usze's gesture wasn't a proper nuzzle; his face wasn't touching N'tho at all, and he was sniffing over and over, snuffling, as if trying to scent…

N'tho's blood chilled.

Usze was trying to smell another male's scent on him.

The realization was like a punch in the gut.

Any indignation N'tho felt over the fact that he _hadn't done anything wrong_—that he'd passed his time trembling with eagerness to be back with his mate, with barely a glance for the Phantom's crew—was overcome by the fact that Usze's doubts were entirely reasonable, given N'tho's former reputation as the fleet slut.

He was not the fleet slut any more. He was a different person now; he had started becoming a different person ever since Usze had taken it upon himself to give a damn about N'tho's welfare. But of course anyone could let lies drip off their mandibles, or with the best of intentions, make promises they couldn't keep in the end.

Nothing he could say would change Usze's mind. The only thing he could do was continue to _act_ in a manner befitting the loyal mate he was. Time, not words, would exonerate him.

So Nitro gritted his teeth and let Usze smell him. Let Usze find out for himself that there was no evidence to uncover because _nothing inappropriate had happened_.

And he prayed that none of the Phantom's crew had accidentally brushed against him and left incriminating scent behind.

*

Rtas 'Vadum looked up and down the hall before typing a sequence of numbers into the keypad on the door to Usze and N'tho's private quarters. He still couldn't believe that 'Taham and 'Sraom had chosen to share an apartment when there were vacant quarters available.

He also couldn't quite believe that he was sneaking into that same apartment without the occupants' knowledge. An Admiral—even a Spec Ops Commander—usually had sufficient authority to get what he wanted by simply asking for it. It had been a long time since he had needed to resort to deception in order to satisfy his curiosity.

And it was really none of his business, was it?

_The Arbiter is my bondmate. That makes it my business._

Fill Storm's Jackal friend Kip could hack anything. Rtas supposed he should inform the Human base commander about the back doors Kip had found in his computer security, but that would lead to awkward questions about why he'd asked the Jackal to hack the system in the first place. Rtas could only hope that the large quantity of Human entertainment discs that he'd given Kip would keep the Jackal's mouth shut.

Now Rtas pushed on the door tentatively, ready to leap away should it clunk or squeal and draw the attention of Piro or Kya in the apartment across the hall. Instead, the door slid open soundlessly.

Rtas raised his head instinctively, scenting the air. By the Ancestors. Usze and N'tho not only weren't trying to kill each other, but from the smell in here, they were mating on a regular basis. Their scents, mingled with the pheromones of mating, were strong and distinctive.

The Admiral felt a flush of purple coming to his cheeks. If the Arbiter were here, he was certain his mate would laugh and call him a prude again.

Rtas realized he wasn't in the mood for such a joke. If the Arbiter were here, Rtas could ask him outright what was going on between him and Usze.

But could he trust the Arbiter's answer?

He wasn't certain that he could, and it bothered him.

'Sraom had apparently bought 'Taham's tolerance with his own body as the price. Rtas shook his head; 'Sraom really was a shameless little slut. And 'Taham… 'Taham had been concealing a rather depraved nature behind that façade of Ascetic virtue.

Rtas squinted his eyes. The shadowy shapes in the closet solidified into a series of jumpsuits, tunics, human-style tops and bottoms, and….a shapeless mass draped over a hanger. 'Vadum reached out his hand and touched soft doarmir fur.

Carefully, Rtas 'Vadum picked up the cloak and fumbled with it to find the side that went around the neck of the wearer. He ran his finger under the hem, feeling for the rough lump that was a patch of embroidery.

There it was…but in the darkness of the room, he could not read the initials embroidered there. Nor did he want to turn on the lights, for fear someone would notice that the lights had come on while Usze and N'tho were elsewhere.

Cursing himself for a fool, Rtas stepped back out of the room, towards the corridor outside the apartment where he could read the embroidery. He felt like a thief now, taking the cloak out of Usze's quarters.

But he could not afford to be mistaken.

Only when he was out in the hall, under the corridor lights, clearly able to read the initials of Thel 'Vadam embroidered on the cloak, did he allow an expression of rage to cross his features.

It took all his self-control to sneak back into the apartment and replace the cloak. For a moment, he hesitated at the side of the bed, wondering what had been so special about Usze 'Taham.

The man was a cripple, for Forerunners' sake.

But before he sustained his injury, he had been a Blademaster—an arrogant, egotistical, self-absorbed bastard of a Blademaster, but Rtas knew that the Arbiter had a weakness for skilled soldiers, and there was no denying Usze had been skilled… Had that been enough to attract the Arbiter to this aloof, arrogant, standoffish…

There was an answer right there. Rtas knew better than most how the Arbiter loved the thrill of the chase. Usze had probably led him on a merry chase indeed before he'd 'd had his way with him.

Rtas tried to remind himself that he'd seen no signs of flirtation between the Arbiter and Usze 'Taham in their communications prior to this official visit. Perhaps the affair hadn't continued after the Halo mission. Perhaps it had simply been a one-night stand brought on by battle strain…and, of course, he and the Arbiter hadn't been bonded mates then…

…but damn it all, the Arbiter had been his!


	3. Chapter 3: Repercussions

**Chapter the Third: Repercussions**

Sleeping in strange rooms always left the Arbiter edgy. Fortunately, this suite in the officers' quarters of the base smelled of Rtas; it was the only reason the Arbiter was able to fall into a deep, sound sleep.

That sleep was interrupted by the sound of the suite door opening. Reflexively, the Arbiter reached under his pillow and seized his sword hilt, tensing his body, preparing…

The lights illuminated overhead.

The Arbiter blinked and flushed as he recognized the Sangheili in the doorway. He looked down at the hilt in his hand in embarrassment and set it on the table beside him. "My apologies, Rtas."

He was expecting Rtas to make a wry joke at his expense, or perhaps soothe his concerns that assassins could be found anywhere, even on Earth. But instead, Rtas simply nodded a greeting and proceeded to make his way to the far side of the bed, where he brusquely stripped his armour plates and crept into the bunk.

No words of greeting? No hug, not even a touch? The Arbiter weighed the appeal of the sight of Rtas in his bed with the fact that the other Sangheili had chosen to leave his jumpsuit on.

The Arbiter decided to do his level best to rectify that situation. He slipped beneath the covers and cuddled up behind Rtas. Wrapping his arm around the Admiral's chest, he lapped gently at the nape of Rtas' neck.

Rtas stiffened.

It wasn't the reaction the Arbiter had been hoping for. Coaxingly, he let his hands caress Rtas' chest, because he knew the other Sangheili liked that. The second he heard a purr, he'd sink his teeth into Rtas' neck, then solve the jumpsuit problem and…

"I don't feel like this tonight," Rtas said.

The Arbiter drew back, bewildered and hurt. "We've hardly had a moment's peace in the past two months. Now at last, we have a private room, a long, long way away from Sangheilos and its noble but incredibly demanding populace, and you do not feel like it?" Privately, this had been the true reason the Arbiter had been looking forward to his return to Earth; he'd been craving some private time with his mate. He'd thought Rtas would feel the same.

"I'm tired," Rtas replied. "It was a long flight, and dealing with humans is wearisome."

Apparently not.

The Arbiter sighed, feeling dejected. "Have you not missed me at all?" he asked quietly.

"Yes," Rtas said quietly, "but I…I just don't feel like it."

Silence for a few moments, until Rtas felt compelled to justify himself. "I can't change that." His words rank through the stillness as the Arbiter struggled to come up with a reply.

He could not say _it's all right_ because it was not; nor would he debase himself to beg, or dare to order his mate, a hero in his own right, to please him.

The Arbiter was seized with a brief urge to sink his teeth into Rtas' neck anyway, to trigger the reflex that made a Sangheili's muscles go limp. With Rtas helpless before him, surely he could convince his mate that _yes_, Rtas _did _want this after all?

But no sooner had the thought crossed his mind than a strong feeling of revulsion followed hard on its heels.

He, of all people, would not and _could _not force his mate in such a manner.

If Rtas said no, then the Arbiter had to respect it.

The Arbiter rolled onto his back and let out his breath. How had he even for a moment considered doing something like that? He felt his own desire vanishing, replaced by self-disgust.

He was a better person than that.

Wasn't he?

The Sangheili once named Thel 'Vadam wasn't sure how long he stared up at the ceiling, wondering again whether he deserved the mantle of the Arbiter, the role of Dervish-King of the Sangheili, or the warrior by his side.

In his sleep, Rtas rolled over to face him. The Arbiter looked down at his mate and smiled sadly, running his hand over 'Vadum's cheek, listening to a soft purr escape his partner's mouth.

Rtas' jaws formed syllables: "Ku….so…"

The Arbiter froze.

Rtas nudged the Arbiter's hand with his muzzle, his eyes sealed shut. "Kusovai?" The word was slurred with sleep but its tone was no less needy.

Not even the Mark of Punishment had hurt so much.

It took all of the Arbiter's willpower to force his hand to continue to stroke his bondmate's face. Rtas' mandibles split into a smile on one side of his mouth; on the other side, his stumps went through the motions of parting jaws that were no longer there.

The Arbiter knew, as he comforted his sleeping mate, that there was something terribly wrong between them.

And he had no idea how to make it better.

*

Even as Usze 'Taham shut the door behind N'tho and locked it, he realized that he'd never felt less like being alone with his mate.

He'd thought he'd be happy to see Nitro after their two days apart. Nitro certainly had seemed glad to see him, bolting off the Phantom and sweeping him up into a hug.

But a strange comment from Rtas 'Vadum had dredged up the smouldering embers of Usze's fears and fanned them into a raging inferno.

Usze had let Nitro down in the past. Nitro had wound up in the arms of current SpecOps Commander Vaa 'Moiril, followed by a return to his bad old habits of sleeping with anyone who paid him any attention. Yes, it had been partly Usze's fault for abandoning him, but that fact didn't change N'tho's predispositions.

Living on Earth with no other Sangheili save N'tho's father, his mate, and their daughters had eliminated N'tho's temptations for six blissful months. But Usze had been hard pressed to hold his tongue when the Arbiter had announced his intent to visit Earth, and N'tho had volunteered to go to Africa to greet him. Usze had worried about leaving N'tho alone with a whole ship full of other Sangheili—but he knew that a relationship had to be built on trust. He had to have faith that N'tho would not cheat on him the second his back was turned.

That faith had proven hard to find.

Usze was crippled and broken and getting fat. He was all rank and mouth now, with none of the lethal grace he'd once possessed to back up his imperious demands. N'tho, on the other hand, was an ascending star, and one look at him showed that the blood of Kaidons ran in his veins. A parting of the ways was sure to be inevitable.

Usze's eyes fell on the purple doarmir-fur cloak that lay across their bed. The cloak had been N'tho's gift to him.

Ras had insinuated that it had belonged to the Arbiter.

He'd never looked for the maker's embroidery mark. Perhaps he should…

But N'tho stood between him and the cloak.

N'tho was wasting no time in removing first his armour, then his jumpsuit. Usze stood frozen to the spot, not knowing how to begin to explain why his desire for his mate had vanished. Surely it was evident that N'tho could do better now—and probably had.

N'tho tilted his head. "Why are you wearing that helmet, Usze?" he whispered.

The helmet. Usze had almost forgotten that he'd traded in his open-faced combat helmet for his old standard, the closed assault helmet. How could he explain that he didn't want Rtas to see…

He couldn't. He simply removed it and stared helplessly at N'tho.

Nitro nodded as Usze set the helmet on the table near the door. Then, 'Sraom turned around and folded himself onto his knees, leaning forward over the bed, giving Usze a very nice rear view…

Usze didn't admire the view for long, though. Nitro was making a needy little noise in the back of his throat, a cross between a lonely whine and a desperate panting, over and over… And Usze felt a strange sensation welling up from the wound where his jealousy and paranoia had torn a hole in his heart.

"Nitro…I…."

N'tho's next words cut him off. "You can smell much better without it, sir."

"Smell…?"

N'tho's long neck bent so he was peering up at Usze.

"I know what you were doing, sir."

Usze's gut clenched. He considered denying it.

"And without my clothing, you'll be able to tell for certain if anyone else's scent is on me," N'tho continued quietly.

'Sraom didn't seem angry. He didn't seem hurt, either. Usze would have preferred any mix of those two emotions if it would only get rid of that look in N'tho's eyes.

"Nitro…I…."

"Smell me," N'tho said firmly. He bowed his head again. "Sir."

Usze limped forward and rested his hands on N'tho's shoulders. He didn't know what else to do. Wanting to weep, Usze lowered his muzzle to N'tho's hide and took a deep breath. He smelled nothing but the thick, warm musk of his husband.

"Why are you calling me sir?" Usze whispered in N'tho's earbud. He felt terrified, as though some new horror was about to assault them both. The idea that N'tho might be associating him with some of those warriors who had used and abused him in the past sickened him.

"Some guys get off on it."

Usze shook his head. "I'm not one of them."

N'tho closed his eyes, ashamed. "I am."

Usze stared at his husband, not comprehending. He tried to get down on his knees to look at Nitro face-to-face, but his lame leg was stiff and he ended up half-sitting, half-falling onto his left thigh.

N'tho's eyes flew open and the noises in his throat stopped. "Usze? Are you okay?"

Usze leaned back against the bed, clenching his mandibles, trying not to let any of the curses in his thoughts make their way into words. He succeeded, but he could not keep the moisture from his eyes.

"Usze? Sir?" N'tho's eyes were wide with impending panic. He lapped urgently at Usze's wet cheeks. "Uzi!"

"I'm _useless_," Usze spat.

"I need you," N'tho whispered. His urgent little sounds turned to a sad, slow whine that sounded like air deflating from a Huragok's flotation bladder. "Help me."

Usze still hated being lame and fat and ugly, but he had to—_had to—_start thinking of his marriage and not just himself. He put his arms around Nitro. N'tho didn't seem to notice that he could do better for himself. He nuzzled right up to Usze and held on tight.

And Usze owed his mate an apology.

"I'm so sorry," Usze whispered. "That wasn't fair of me, to test you like that."

N'tho shrugged. "I have a bad reputation. I can't say anything to make it go away. All I can do is keep proving to you that you're the only one I want. And if you need to…" he swallowed hard, betraying at least some hurt behind his brave words "…you can smell me all over all you like, whenever you like. There's nothing to find. There's never…." His voice broke. "…never going to be anything for you to find. Because there's nobody but you for me. There's been nobody but you since your bracelet closed on my wrist." His hand gripped the bonding bracelet tightly. "Uzi….please. Put your teeth in my neck and tell me I still belong to you."

Usze sighed. "Do I have any right to do that?" He wasn't sure he was comfortable with the aggressive nature of that idea.

"I want it," N'tho said, closing his eyes, laying his head on Usze's chest.

Usze felt suddenly, horribly conflicted. N'tho's words rang with honest candour. And the whole time he'd been fighting with N'tho during the Halo mission, he'd never seen any sign of the Arbiter showing interest in N'tho…or vice versa.

A sudden remembrance hit him like a lightning strike.

By the Rings, what had Usze said back then? Had he not _told _Nitro to stop pestering him with his affections, to go chase the Arbiter instead? N'tho had answered something to the effect of informing him that the Arbiter had eyes only for Rtas, and N'tho had no desire to get in the middle of that.

Nitro stirred, whimpering.

Usze took a deep breath, relented, nipped Nitro's neck. Nitro nuzzled against him, beginning to purr.

"I feel the need to justify myself," 'Taham said as he stroked his mate.

N'tho cuddled closer and opened his eyes.

Usze took a deep breath. "Admiral 'Vadum said some things to me that I found upsetting."

"Rtas?" N'tho appeared confused.

"Something about that cloak of yours."

Nitro tensed in Usze's arms, and Usze felt sick all over again.

"Nitro. Did you…"

Usze's mouth felt as though it had been filled with sawdust. His mandibles churned as he struggled to form the words.

"You…and the Arbiter…did you…"

"He wasn't the Arbiter." N'tho swallowed. "Not yet."

Usze's eyes widened as he struggled to take this in.

Not _yet_. That meant history…something that pre-dated Usze and N'tho's relationship, pre-dated even their first meeting. Something that was over and done with.

But by the Ancestors' holy honour, the _Arbiter_.

How could Usze possibly compare to…

And then another thought struck him.

Even as the Blademaster, he doubted he'd have been the Arbiter's equal in a fair fight. He thought he could have beaten the Arbiter—_maybe_—if he'd had the element of surprise, or attacked when the Arbiter was wearied from prior battles. Now, as a cripple, he had no chance in such a combat. He had no doubt what the outcome would be.

And yet, if the Arbiter had hurt N'tho, Usze saw himself with no other choice.

"What did he do to you?" Usze hissed.

N'tho looked uncomfortable. "Uzi, do you really want to hear about this?"

No, Usze didn't want to hear about this. He didn't want to hear it at all. He wanted to close his ears and his eyes and pretend that he'd been the only mate that N'tho had ever really wanted to be with.

But want and need were two different things.

"I need to know the truth." Need, because if Rtas was going to try to make N'tho pay for a past mistake, Usze needed to know how to counter the Admiral. For that he needed an accurate understanding of the facts that had led them all to this point; whether he enjoyed learning those facts was irrelevant. He would protect his mate at any cost.

N'tho sighed, looking dubious. "You ain't gonna like this."

Usze swallowed hard, and took N'tho's hand. "We have to deal with Rtas and the Arbiter for the next week. I need to know what I'm up against."

"It was my act, not yours."

"And you are my mate, and so we will have no more debate on this matter. I will defend you and you will assist me."

N'tho nodded, acquiescing. "Can we get up off the floor, though? Sit at the table, or something?"

"The table?" Usze was surprised. "Not the bed?"

"You want to be in bed with someone who's telling you all about being with another guy?"

"Do you want my teeth in your neck or not?"

Usze said it purely out of selfishness. He knew he would need the reassurance he could get from dominating N'tho. What surprised him was how much N'tho seemed to want to be dominated. The words had him in the bed in a flash, peering up at Usze hopefully.

Usze took a deep breath and climbed in beside his mate, maneuvering himself so that N'tho's back was against his chest.

He licked the nape of Nitro's neck and listened to his partner moan. Ever so lightly, he let his teeth scrape N'tho's hide.

"Yes," his mate whispered. "Please."

"Mine," Usze said, and bit down.

Usze had to admit that some black little corner of his heart liked the power rush he received from sinking his teeth into Nitro's nape. He knew he'd bit hard enough to trigger the muscle-relaxing reflex common to all Sangheili. Nitro's limbs would be sluggish and numb now, leaving Nitro helpless in Usze's grip. In the dark ages before the Prophets, the bite had been a way for rulers and leaders to underline their power over their subordinates; after the coming of the San 'Shyuum, the bite became a taboo used only between lovers. To be the one delivering the bite made Usze both mate and master.

Usze could not understand why N'tho moaned as if in ecstasy, or why 'Sraom accepted this sort of subjugation. He was not certain if he wanted to understand the dark satisfaction he got from mastering N'tho this way.

"Tell me," Usze murmured in N'tho's earbud as he settled himself on the pillows, tugged N'tho onto his chest, and pulled a blanket up over them both..

"Last chance to change your mind…" N'tho was panting a little. "And you know I don't usually do this…talk about who I've been with, I mean. I learned pretty early that the last thing a guy wants to hear is all the details about the other people his mate's had sex with. And, you know, naming names gets people in trouble." N'tho fidgeted. "So I don't ever talk about…y'know…_who_, exactly, I've all been with." He lay his head against Usze's shoulder. "Except for you," he said, closing his eyes. "You know I'd do anything for you."

_Swear you belong to me._

But N'tho had already done that, 'Taham realized. It was Uzi who could not muster enough faith to believe it.

Usze ran his hand down N'tho's cheek. "Just this one, Nitro. Just these one set of details, this one time."

N'tho took a deep breath.

And told him.


	4. Chapter 4: Graduation

**Author's note: **A request to those of you who are enjoying my stories: I would appreciate if you would add them to your "Favourite Stories" lists, or myself to your "Favourite Author" lists. Fic writers rely on links like these to help spread interest in our stories, so if you enjoy these fics, please consider helping to promote them to a wider audience.

**Chapter the Fourth: Graduation**

_Six years previously_

N'tho 'Sraomee climbed the spiral staircase to the Commandant's office with a nervous quiver in his mandibles.

Mere moments after the final ceremony had ended and the new graduates of the Tnoknsig War College had marched off the parade square, children no longer, an aide had pulled N'tho out of the press of his comrades and taken him aside. He had been given a message that was simple and brief; to report to the Commandant's office.

N'tho longed to be back out on the square with his battle brothers. Shortly the graduated females from the nearby Finishing School would be arriving; many of the young Sangheili were looking forward to exercising their rights as adults by taking part in their first sanctioned mating.

Others, however—some of whom had consorts from their school days, others of whom simply preferred the company of their own gender—were leaving in pairs or packs, intending to find a more private place to celebrate their coming of age.

And N'tho was not with either group. Instead he was on his way to see the Commandant.

Why?

Had he done something wrong?

N'tho reached the head of the stairs and turned right, then right again, threading the corridors of the War College until he approached the Commandant's office.

Standing right outside the door was the Commandant himself. The old Sangheili, recipient of a string of battle honours but too aged to fight in combat any longer, had retired to an honourable career training the next generation of Sangheili soldiers.

N'tho came to attention and saluted his superior officer.

"Greetings, Minor Domo 'Sraomee."

Minor Domo. 'Sraomee, with the serving-soldier suffix on his surname. Cadet no longer.

"The Supreme Commander wishes to speak with you." The Commandant nodded at the closed door of his office.

N'tho's mandibles gaped open.

The Supreme Commander of the Fleet of Particular Justice had been the guest of honour at the graduation. A former graduate of the College himself, he had been asked to give a speech to N'tho's class—something to inspire them to follow in his footsteps.

But why would the Fleetmaster of the Fleet of Particular Justice want to see someone like him? Why not his former consort, Lor'n 'Malachee, who had graduated at the top of the class?

As N'tho knocked on the office door, the Commandant nodded to him and limped off down the corridor.

"Enter." The Supreme Commander's voice was deep, even for a Sangheili.

N'tho obeyed.

Supreme Commander 'Vadamee was standing behind the Commandant's desk, back to the room, looking out the Commandant's window onto the square below. Even from his position, N'tho could see the graduating class milling around below.

'Vadamee's position made it seem as though the office belonged to him; he was perfectly at ease and radiating an unquestionable authority. He wore an ornate purple headdress and a matching cloak in the same rich, vibrant colour, the same clothing he had worn at the closing ceremony less than an hour before. N'tho had spent hours polishing his new blue armour, which now looked impossibly grubby next to the Supreme Commander's robe.

N'tho came to attention and saluted, holding the salute, which the Supreme Commander could not see from his current position. "Minor Domo N'tho 'Sraomee reporting as requested, sir."

The Fleetmaster inclined his head, watching N'tho out of the corner of his eye. "At ease, 'Sraomee. You may close and lock the door."

Lock? N'tho felt another tremor wriggle down his spine. He fumbled with the latch, willing himself not to be frightened—the Supreme Commander would smell his fear. N'tho succeeded with the lock and hoped he was half as successful with his own self-control as he turned back to the Supreme Commander.

"Come. Join me," 'Vadamee beckoned, stretching out an arm.

N'tho stepped forward, hesitantly, then pressed his mandibles together. A Sangheili warrior acted with decisiveness. His next steps were faster, more certain, as he projected a confidence he did not entirely feel until he was standing before the Supreme Commander.

The Commander draped his arm right over N'tho's shoulders and turned him, bodily, to face the window. N'tho was shocked by the sudden press of the Commander's side against his own.

"Look," the Fleetmaster beckoned, gesturing with his other hand to the courtyard. His arm remained over N'tho's shoulders, heavy and muscular and warm. N'tho could feel the soft caress of the cloak against the back of his neck; the purple hide spilled off the Supreme Commander's arm and down over N'tho's side, enveloping N'tho's arm and curling serpentine around his upper leg.

N'tho did as ordered, watching his brothers below. As he observed, he saw two young warriors—Ta'ak and Xae—slip off into the bushes, holding hands. Others of his classmates were now interacting with the females, some in groups, some in pairs. A handful more stood alone, turning their heads as if searching for someone.

"Is there someone down there who is missing you?" 'Vadamee asked him.

N'tho swallowed dryly. Earlier this year Lor'n had become his first consort...was consort the right word, when cadets were forbidden from mating by law? Well, they used _consort_ anyway to describe a relationship between students who favoured one another as more than friends.

But his relationship had ended just a week ago, when the cadets had received their final reports. He had not expected his consort to completely lose interest in him once his class was permitted to meet their female counterparts from the Finishing School. That "introduction" had been a thinly veiled excuse to find suitable mates for the graduating females, some of whom would soon be experiencing their first breeding season. Lor'n forgotten all about N'tho once he'd been given the chance to be intimate with a female.

N'tho could see his former consort twined closely around a female from the Finishing School. N'tho couldn't even remember if it was the female he'd been dumped for, or a different girl.

N'tho wasn't sure he'd ever actually been in love with Lor'n. Thought he was attractive, definitely. Wanted to fool around with him, oh yes. But love? N'tho wasn't sure that he'd liked Lor'n as much as he'd liked having a consort, with all the one-on-one attention and social prestige that came with it.

Regardless, being dumped for a female hurt, and the week before graduation, doubly so. Couldn't Lor'n have waited until afterwards, so that N'tho wasn't faced with the spectre of being a complete loser on graduation night?

"No, sir," he whispered. "There's nobody."

"Had you been looking forward to sampling the females, then?"

Some of the cadets talked incessantly about females, and breeding, and family lineage, and how they were going to have a hundred sons someday. N'tho—his mother's first and only child—barely remembered his mother. She had died while birthing an egg when he was very young; he recalled only enough to understand just how much he had lost. While he knew it was his duty to create children, he had no desire to rush into that duty, not now when he was only just become an adult himself. Truth be told, losing his consort to a female had given him a bit of a grudge against the entire gender. He knew his reaction was irrational, but the realization did not make the sentiment disappear.

"I suppose I will sooner or later, sir," he answered honestly, "but..."

"But?"

N'tho bowed his head. "I don't know, sir," he admitted.

"But you don't understand the depths of some cadets' fascination with the opposite gender?"

N'tho shrugged. He felt the Supreme Commander's arm shift with the motion, and forced himself to stand rigid, so as not to shake off his superior and possibly offend him. "My uncles trained me in the mountains. They took turns coming to the camp to see me, rather than raising me in the keep. I don't think I've seen a female my own age up close in...in more years than I can recall." He held his tongue about hiding in the back of his pack during the recent visit to the Finishing School, avoiding both Lor'n and the females. "And I don't particularly feel I'm missing anything at this point in my life, so...I believe your summary is correct, sir."

"Ah." Did the Commander sound approving? Understanding? "So, you planned to spend the night's celebrations with a group of your battle brothers, then?"

N'tho was silent. Confessing plans for naked, drunken sexual experimentation in the nearby forests was not an appropriate topic of discussion between a cadet—or even a Minor Domo—and a Fleet Commander. And it wasn't as though he had plans of any sort, beyond waiting to see what opportunities the evening might offer him.

Or fail to offer. His insides clenched. His chances were narrowing with each moment he spent here.

"Come now," the Supreme Commander was chiding him. "You are about to join a combat unit made up entirely of males. And as for this evening's activities, I graduated from this college myself. I remember how graduation night is done."

N'tho swallowed. "Planned isn't the right word, sir. I was...open to possibilities. A sister, a brother, whichever. Many of us are looking to pair off. In the absence of such an offer...yes, I suppose I would have gone out to the clearing...do you know the clearing, sir?"

The Supreme Commander favoured him with a smile. "Oh yes. Yes, very well indeed."

This familiarity was strange, and unsettling.

"N'tho 'Sraomee." The Fleetmaster lifted his arm at last and moved away. The cloak whispered over N'tho's body as its wearer withdrew. N'tho became acutely aware of a shock of cold air against his side where he had been previously pressed against the Commander.

The Supreme Commander moved in front of him, looking him over, blocking his view of the courtyard below.

N'tho finally got a good look at the Fleetmaster up close; he couldn't not, with the senior Sangheili standing so near, so close he could reach out and touch him if he dared. It was rank, not physical distance, that opened the gulf betwen them.

N'tho was surprised to notice that the Supreme Commander was not as old as he had expected. The Fleetmaster was handsome, and strong, and well-muscled under his armour and jumpsuit, as though he spent his time in battle rather than sitting on the bridge of his flagship. He certainly looked in fine fighting trim; he had not sacrificed one form of prowess for another, not like the Commandant, who had been promoted to his rank at the college when he became too slow to fight in real combat.

Being so close to the Fleetmaster made N'tho's hearts beat faster.

'Vadamee was slightly taller than he was; so the caped officer leaned forward to put himself on eye level with N'tho. Their muzzles were bare inches apart. N'tho could feel the Supreme Commander's breath as a hot whisper on his hide. "You are an adult now, N'tho 'Sraomee, and empowered to make your own decisions. What I am about to ask you is something to which you must speak your mind. There will be no punishment for you, regardless of the decision you make, so long as your actions are properly respectful. Do you understand?"

N'tho nodded, though he did not entirely trust that there would be no punishment.

"By your word, I would dismiss you, and you could go down there to join your battle brothers or the college sisters."

Would he even find anyone? How much time had he spent up here? It felt like forever, though it might only have been minutes—but he had watched the other Sangheili pairing off and splitting up. He had a sudden terror of being alone, left behind, a failure who remained a virgin even after graduation night.

Could he find his way to the clearing, alone, as darkness fell?

"Or," the Supreme Commander said, "you could spend your graduation night here, for a...more private celebration."

N'tho tilted his head, puzzled. Here? In the Commandant's office? The notion of such luxury thrilled him, but who would he be celebrating it with...?

Then the Supreme Commander reached out a hand to stroke N'tho on the bottom of his lower mandibles, and suddenly N'tho understood.

No, he had to be mistaken.

But the Fleetmaster was still looking him in the eyes and beginning to smile ever so slightly...

…and 'Vadamee's other hand was now resting on N'tho's hip.

Oh, by the Ancestors, he wasn't mistaken. N'tho knew his mandibles hung open—he could feel them brushing over 'Vadamee's wrist—and he was certain the scent of nervous agitation was rolling off him in waves.

The Fleetmaster's smile broadened. "You have permission to decline," he said gently. "Only...choose quickly."

N'tho forced himself to swallow; his throat was suddenly dry as ash. What choice was there, really? To go down to the courtyard and seek the attention of one of those unwanted ones still left—to spend his graduation night with someone that no other had desired? To go to the clearing and beg the attention of the group would be a better option, even if he might not know the identity of the first one to mount him. But who would choose either of those options when he could claim his adulthood in the company of someone like Supreme Commander 'Vadamee?

He ducked his head and leaned forward until the end of his muzzle brushed the Supreme Commander's chest. "I would spend it here, sir." 'Sroam flushed. He could feel his cheeks purpling. "Except…"

The Commander's body drew away from him. He blinked and saw 'Vadamee looking down at him. The Fleetmaster reached out, gripping N'tho's lower jaws in his powerful hand. "Except?" He cocked an eye ridge, looking not particularly amused.

N'tho hung his head, or tried to, but the Commander's hold kept it from descending much at all. "You do know, sir, my final evaluation was barely above average."

"I read your file."

"I do not mean to question you, Your Excellency."

'Vadamee snorted. "But you do. You wonder why I chose you out of all of them." He released 'Sraomee and gestured towards the parade square below.

Of course N'tho wondered, particularly as his eyes followed the sweep of the Fleetmaster's hand. But did the answer truly matter? He was the one standing next to the Supreme Commander now.

N'tho drew a ragged. "My curiosity is not relevant. I would have you, sir," he whispered, "be my first."

Thel's arms encircled him, strong and reassuring. "Your first?" the Supreme Commander murmured. "Really."

"Sir?" What was 'Vadamee trying to get him to admit to? "We aren't allowed to breed while underage." Stupid, stupid…of course the Supreme Commander already knew that…

But the Fleetmaster was regarding him with some amusement. "And you listened?"  
"I'm a dedicated warrior, sir. My consort, he pestered me, but I couldn't say yes. It'd be…wrong."

"Consort?" the Supreme Commander growled. "I thought you were available."

"I am." N'tho bowed his head. "My _former _consort considered my loyalty to the rules less that appealing. Meanwhile, there was a young female who was more than willing to bend those rules to please him."

"Hence your questioning my choice now."

N'tho stood silent.

The Supreme Commander took N'tho's head in both hands and dipped his muzzle to N'tho's earbud. "Listen to me now, N'tho 'Sraomee. Loyalty can sometimes be its own reward." He smirked. "I will not lie to you. There are many in our number who would cut down a battle brother to promote themselves. The Covenant has only partially tempered our old ambitions, our old thirst for conquest, and our species' age-old struggle for dominance over one another as well as over our surroundings. Some of our number still devote themselves to this internal combat; others are wise enough to value loyalty where it can be found."

N'tho did not know how to react to this pronouncement. He stood there, confused, as the Fleetmaster looked him up and down.

'Vadamee finished his inspection and smiled. "What I see before me now pleases me very much."

N'tho purpled as the blood rushed to his cheeks, but he also felt a flush of pride. "Thank you, sir."

The Supreme Commander chuckled to himself as he set his hands on N'tho's shoulders. "Oh, don't thank me yet. You will have much more to thank me for soon enough."

'Sraomee bowed his head. "I am yours to…instruct, Your Excellency."


	5. Chapter 5: Initiation

**Chapter the Fifth: Initiation**

N'tho 'Sraomee's hearts pounded wildly in his chest. He forced himself to breathe deeply, but every breath carried with it the heavy, masculine scent of Supreme Commander 'Vadamee. The very fact that he was now alone, in the Commandant's office, with the Supreme Commander of the Fleet of Particular Justice on his graduation night was like a secret fantasy come to life. Even N'tho's former consort, Lor'n 'Malachee, couldn't have dreamed up a story like this.

But as 'Vadamee's hands stroked N'tho's mandibles, causing the young warrior's knees to tremble from a potent cocktail of anxiety and desire, 'Sraomee decided that he didn't care whether or not anyone would ever believe him if he tried to talk about this experience after the fact. He would know that he did not spend his graduation night hiding away in shame.

He would know that a Supreme Commander had chosen _him_.

'Vadamee looked him over and smiled with satisfaction. "Remove your armour," the Fleetmaster said. His words were gentle, but no less an order. This warrior did not need to bark his instructions to imbue them with the weight of command.

N'tho, though he felt shy, dared not disobey. He began to fumble with the fasteners on his left thigh plate. The clasps were suddenly very stiff, and when he finally got the plate off, it landed on the floor with a ridiculously loud clatter that made him jump. He looked up, ashamed, to see the Fleetmaster watching him with amusement; the elder warrior made a hand gesture indicating "continue." N'tho pulled himself together and managed to remove the rest of his armour, saving his helmet for last. Finally he was holding that in his hands in front of his now unarmoured chest, peering nervously at his superior officer.

And he realized, with a sudden bolt of insight, that there was also a neatly stacked pile of golden armour peeping out from under the Supreme Commander's cape.

How had he done it? How had he moved so smoothly that he'd barely rippled his cloak, yet managed to remove all his armour save his helmet?

The Commander noticed N'tho's surprise and seemed to find it entertaining. "And now, your bodysuit," he murmured as he stepped closer, leaving his armour behind.

N'tho unfastened the ties and zip at his neck, but as he pulled the fastener down his chest, he felt his cheeks heating and turning purple. Even though young Sangheili lived in common rooms, and cadets lived in common barracks—even though he'd been naked around his own kind countless times, and despite his clumsy petting sessions with Lor'n—it was somehow very different to be told to strip for a superior officer, particularly one with amorous intentions. He flushed as he left the suit unzipped to his waist while he pulled his arms out of the sleeves. Where was he ever going to find the nerve to pull it over his hips?

He gasped as he felt the Commander's hands on his shoulders.

"You should not be ashamed," the Commander murmured into his earbud. "You have a fine body. You should be pleased to show it off." His hands travelled down over N'tho's chest, caressing, exploring. The sensual strokes of his fingertips made N'tho's knees grow weak.

"I have enjoyed watching you," the Commander continued, "but I fear I am needlessly cruel."

"Sir?" N'tho asked. He was struggling to force the word from his mouth. The Commander's touch made him want to groan instead, because all his nerve endings were tingling and his shaft was growing hard, and that was just from a caress to his upper body. When would the Commander's hands move downward?

"I see that you are shy," he murmured. "As is normal for a virgin warrior. And I am not being particularly helpful. Let me fix that…"

N'tho felt the Commander's other arm encircling his shoulders, and the purple cape came with it, swirling around his body until the next thing he knew, he was enfolded completely in the soft purple fur. He could no longer see his own body.

But oh, what he could feel.

The Commander's hands were roaming freely across his chest now. He could feel the Commander's chest against his back, and he realized with an electric jolt that 'Vadamee must have removed his bodysuit as well as his armour because there was nothing separating the Supreme Commander's warm hide from the bare flesh of N'tho's shoulder blades. Soft fur whispered over his arms. And…oh, by the Rings. He could feel the Commander's shaft pressing against him, nudging him with his every movement.

"Lean back," the Commander whispered in his earbud.

N'tho obeyed, immediately, unquestioningly, just as he had been trained to obey, and then the Commander's hands stopped their wandering and seized his suit. With one sharp downward tug, the garment was puddled around his ankles. N'tho gasped at the sudden rush of cold air against his naked body.

And then the Commander's hands folded around his waist, holding him close.

"Raise your left leg. Undo the zip. Remove your hoof."

N'tho willed his body not to shake as he carried out the Supreme Commander's orders. He failed to hide the tremor in his hand when he pulled his left leg from the suit. But the Fleetmaster's arms were around him, steady and reassuring. Why should he be nervous? This situation was beyond his control. It was in the Supreme Commander's hands now, and there was a true comfort in that fact. N'tho needed only to do as he was bidden. 'Vadamee would take care of the rest.

By the time N'tho's right hoof cleared the bottom of his suit, he had given himself over completely to Supreme Commander 'Vadamee. As his suit fell into a pool of cloth on the floor of the Commandant's office, N'tho leaned back and let his body melt against the Supreme Commander's. N'tho closed his eyes and let 'Vadamee's arms support him as he abandoned himself to the sensations rushing through him.

The Supreme Commander wrapped his arms around N'tho's midsection. The doarmir fur cloak sighed shut over both their shoulders, leaving N'tho's front covered in soft fur and his back covered with…with…

…with superior officer. He blushed at the thought.

But he was covered and safe here in the Fleetmaster's arms.

N'tho closed his eyes. All of a sudden, his worries melted and fell away. The hard, tight knot he'd been carrying in his gut for who knew how long miraculously vanished when 'Vadamee stroked him.

Concern about if he would find a mate tonight. Concern about if he'd be any good at mating. Concern about how he'd go on without Lor'n. Concern about whether or not he'd graduate. Concern about what his first military posting might be like. His concerns were irrelevant now. 'Vadamee could handle them all.

N'tho had nothing to concern himself with save his pleasure and the Commander's, and even then, there was nothing to be worried about. He knew the Supreme Commander would guide him, and tell him everything he needed to do. All he had to do was accept, and let it happen.

"Sir," N'tho whispered, feeling a sudden rising urge of arousal and curiosity.

"Hm?"

"Sir." N'tho's mouth was very dry. "Permission to make a request."

The Supreme Commander raised an eye ridge in astonishment as he moved back a step. "You have remarkable nerve for a newly minted Minor Domo."

'Sraomee's body cried out in protest as the warm, strong touch of his superior vanished from his back. N'tho turned to 'Vadamee and bowed his head in apology, acquiescence, and shame. He hoped the Fleetmaster would forgive him for the blunder he'd made due to his inexperience.

"Speak," 'Vadamee urged, catching him under the mandibles again. "I would hear this request you thought was so important that you would interrupt me."

N'tho's cheeks grew hot. He had no choice now but to voice his impertinent question.

"I was going to ask if I might, er, touch you."

Now both of 'Vadamee's eye ridges shot straight upwards. Then his mandibles split into a smile and he chuckled.

"Did your consort fail to tempt you in any way whatsoever?" he asked, with a grin. "Yes, my young warrior. You may."

"He didn't fail," N'tho said quietly as he laid his head against 'Vadamee's chest. He could hear the Fleetmaster's hearts thundering in unison, one loud beneath his earbud, the other more distant. 'Sraomee raised his hands and stroked 'Vadamee's back. "He just didn't…feel like you."

None of Lor'n's big talk could change the fact that he was still just a fourteen-year old youth, barely an adult, not yet blooded in combat, oror the fact that the scar across his shoulder blades was the result of a loss of concentration during a sparring match and not a genuine battle wound.

'Vadamee's body was covered in the thick, velvety hide of a mature Sangheili, not the soft fuzzy skin of a child. Lor'n 'Malachee could only hope to grow into a frame as muscular and powerful as the Supreme Commander's. N'tho's fingers caught on a series of puckered runnels over the Fleetmaster's ribs and he quivered as he realized what they were—true battle scars. The Supreme Commander's body fascinated him. He let his hands explore his superior officer's arms, his shoulders, his chest, his hips…

'Vadamee's laugh, low and mocking, sounded in 'Sraomee's other earbud.

"I thought you were looking to touch here," he murmured, taking one of N'tho's hands in his and placing it…

…placing it…

N'tho froze.

He knew what he must be touching, which was somehow both softer on the surface than he had thought, and harder underneath than he could have imagined. He felt his face heating.

The Supreme Commander continued to laugh at him, though he seemed more amused than malicious.

"Have you never done this before?" 'Vadamee asked as his hand tightened on N'tho's wrist and urged N'tho's arm to move.

"I told 'Malach nothing below the waist until graduation," 'Sraomee stammered, forgetting to add the suffix to Lor'n's clan name, barely able to articulate the words as his attention divided between the feel of the Supreme Commander in his grip and a panic that he was going to do this wrong and displease his superior.

"It is your graduation now," 'Vadamee murmured, licking N'tho's cheek. "And your Lor'n has been a fool. He left you, and now, I have found you."

N'tho's eyes widened as 'Vadamee took _him_ in a similar grip.

The Supreme Commander smiled at him. "And I have _no _intention of letting you go."

N'tho willed himself to keep stroking his…his… _Partner _implied an equality; there was no equality here. _Superior _did not adequately convey the intimacy of this contact. _Mate_, well, they were not yet mates.

But they would be soon enough.

N'tho's knees trembled. The way the Fleetmaster was touching him was a world apart from Lor'n trying to cop feels through his jumpsuit. He felt both completely free, to be rid of the encumbrances of clothing, and completely vulnerable, to be so exposed. His senses were screaming danger at him, to be doing this in the Commandant's office, and yet, he had never felt such pleasure in his life. Was battle fever like this—where the satisfaction of the kill was a delight so strong that threats to life and limb faded into insignificance next to it?

'Sraomee staggered as a spike of pleasure cut into him like a blade. He released his grip on the Supreme Commander and dug both hands into the Commander's shoulders to steady himself, but as he did so, he saw the flash on 'Vadamee's expression which told him that the Fleetmaster missed N'tho's caresses.

He had made an error.

But 'Vadamee pressed his mandibles together and steadied himself before he suddenly released N'tho.

N'tho gasped. The loss of the Fleetmaster's rhythmic stroking produced a need that expressed itself as _pain_. He pressed against the other male urgently, seeking a return of the pleasure. He heard a loud keen of need and realized, as though from a distance, that the cry was his own. Unable to silence himself, he shoved the cloak in his mouth to muffle the sound.

The Supreme Commander was watching him with gleaming eyes. "Such a noise you make," he chided.

"I apologize, sir," N'tho whispered around a mouthful of fur, feeling impossibly awkward, wondering if he would be punished for his shameful display of emotion and lack of self-control.

'Vadamee pulled the cloak out of N'tho's mouth. "Louder."

N'tho blinked at him, uncomprehendingly.

'Vadamee's teeth flashed in a predatory smile as his hand slipped between N'tho's thighs and his finger sought…sought…

N'tho mewled.

"Yes," the Fleetmaster murmured in 'Sraomee's earbud. "You are ready for this."

It was true, N'tho realized. His body was so aroused that it was hurting him. Denial died on his mandibles; what was the point of protesting when both of them would recognize the lie for what it was? He felt shockingly open, and slick where 'Vadamee was gently exploring.

"I…I…" N'tho stammered.

"Sssh," 'Vadumee whispered. "There are times when a warrior must learn to hold his tongue."

So N'tho stopped questioning, and simply _trusted_. He let the Supreme Commander guide him into a position leaning over the Commandant's desk. He did not ask how it would feel, or whether he should do anything in particular, or if it would hurt. He held his tongue, and closed his eyes, and waited.

"Know this," the Fleetmaster murmured in N'tho's earbud. "My mother named me _Thel_."

N'tho kept his silence, and the Supreme Commander chuckled as he carefully took position over the young warrior. "Do you know why I have told you this?"

N'tho shook his head in the negative.

"It is," he said, his voice silky, "so you will know what name to scream."

And then he sank his teeth into N'tho's nape.


	6. Chapter 6: Desolation

**Duels of Honour: Giving the Lie**

**Author's Note: **For those of you who were hoping for a more explicit continuance of Chapter 5…

Since it's not necessary to the story to go into any more detail, Chapter 6 takes up after the encounter is done. However, for those of you who are legally of age and have no moral or aesthetic objections, there is a "bonus chapter" on adultfanfiction net which gives an "extended version" of Chapter 5.

**Chapter the Sixth: Desolation**

Usze 'Taham struggled to keep his temper as N'tho described his first mating experience.

It was rare for Sangheili to remain virgins after their graduation night. Usze could not fault his mate for having sex on graduation night, but the hot, choking, maddening sensation coursing through him was not a simple jealousy. Usze had not liked his first experience, but it sounded as though N'tho had.

N'tho's body was reacting as he described how it had felt to have been mounted first on the Commandant's desk, then again on the Commandant's big floor rug. Usze couldn't help but react as well to the scent of aroused Sangheili warrior. It left him in an odd state of excitement, disgust and fury all at the same time.

But when N'tho told him about that second experience on the rug – how his body, now accustomed to the sensation, had driven him mad with ecstasy and he'd screamed Thel's name until his throat was raw – his voice cracked and a single sparkling tear fell out of his eye.

Usze's reaction was instinctive and instantaneous. He moved without thought, rolling onto his mate, pinning him down, and gently and thoroughly licking the moisture from his face.

N'tho's arms went around him, seizing his shoulders and holding him close. Usze gently tightened his grip around N'tho's shoulders, pressing in with his claws just enough to tantalize, not enough to hurt.

N'tho looked at him for a moment and began to sob.

And in that moment Usze knew that his rage was not directed at N'tho. Usze bowed his neck and lapped up his mate's tears. "Sssssh….you need not say any more…"

N'tho coughed, struggling to regain control of himself. "Yeah…yeah I do, Uzi, there's something more you need to know…"

***** **

N'tho gasped as they parted, as Supreme Commander Thel 'Vadamee withdrew from him. The vague tenderness he'd experienced during the actual mating revealed itself to be an outright ache now that pleasure was no longer fogging his brain. He moved his leg and winced at the pulling sensation.

He tried to tell himself that he'd been wounded worse than this during his training at the War College, and he had fought through the pain and won his sparring match despite his injury. He was going to be just fine…

….but unlike a claw gouge, a sword slash, or any of the other injuries he'd had before, this time it felt as though the wound was deep inside him.

N'tho's body was sluggish and uncooperative from the bites he'd been given. The back of his neck still burned. His skin prickled from the cold breath of air touching his overheated body. He was sticky with sweat, and the frightening throb between his thighs made him quiver…

He pressed closer to the Fleetmaster for comfort. 'Vadamee was his superior officer. He would know what to do. He would know what N'tho needed next. 'Sraomee craned his neck and peered up at his new mate, waiting for guidance.

'Vadamee was not looking at him. Instead, his attention was fixated on the ornamental chronometer hanging on the Commandant's wall.

Thel let out a nasty curse. Then, in one fluid moment, the Fleetmaster rose to his feet, seizing his jumpsuit, hastily pulling it on.

N'tho fell away from 'Vadamee, landing on his shoulder, struggling to get his limbs to support him before his face hit the carpet. He shivered as Thel's warmth was replaced by cold air. 'Sraomee stared at 'Vadamee as he dressed, utterly confounded.

"I'm late," 'Vadamee growled, snapping his armour into position. "I should be on my way back to the Fleet already!"

N'tho lay there helplessly, stretched out on the Commandant's rug. What was he going to do if one of the College's officers came in? He rolled to all fours, then gasped as a sudden throbbing sensation tore through his body. N'tho lay back down until the feeling went away. The only thing he could do was look for his clothing. A low moan escaped his mandibles as he remembered kicking his stack of armour plates over; they were now scattered across the Commandant's office. His jumpsuit was an inside-out ball on the far side of the room.

The Supreme Commander adjusted his chestplate and favoured N'tho with a smile. "You are quite the distraction, N'tho son of 'Sraom."

It sounded like a compliment, but the words were unexpectedly painful.

A distraction?

Was that all he was?

He bit down on his mandibles, but not in time to kill the whimper that escaped between them.

The Supreme Commander raised an eye ridge, glaring down at him imperiously, in a way that made N'tho want to cower and weep.

'Vadamee's mandibles set. N'tho shook, unable to hide his terror at what the expression might mean.

Then the Supreme Commander of the Fleet of Particular Justice dropped to his knees and, unclasping the cloak around his neck, wrapped it around N'tho. "Have this," he murmured. He guided the young warrior into a half-seated position, holding him securely against his chest, and licked his cheek.

N'tho felt better to be covered in his moment of vulnerability. The Fleetmaster's warmth seeping through the cloak drove away his chills; the Fleetmaster's solid chest against his back was a solid foundation. He buried his muzzle in 'Vadamee's neck, breathing in Thel's scent, while the comforting softness of the fur caressed his hide.

"You will be fine, my brave warrior," the Fleetmaster said gently. "Your control will return shortly and your discomfort will pass. But I suggest you put yourself together now, and rest later, in your barracks. I suspect that soon after I leave, the Commandant will want his office back."

As if summoned by those words, there was suddenly a loud knocking at the door.

Thel rubbed N'tho's back through the cape. Then the Supreme Commander rose to his feet and crossed the room to answer the door, slipping on his helmet as he did so, while N'tho crept behind the Commandant's desk to hide. 'Vadamee did not even let the other Sangheili into the room; instead he stepped out, shutting the door behind him. Their voices faded away down the hall.

N'tho steeled himself. 'Vadamee was right; it might not be long before someone else came along and entered the office. Before that happened, he had to be dressed and gone.

He forced himself to his feet, ignoring his aching muscles and the strange tender sensation. With shaking hands, 'Sraomee gathered up his clothing and dressed. All the while, the purple cloak hung heavily around his shoulders.

It was only when N'tho had retrieved his helmet that he realized that Thel 'Vadamee would not be coming back. The Supreme Commander would already be on his way to the spaceport to fly back to his fleet.

There had been no time for N'tho to say goodbye to the warrior who had become his first mate. No time for Thel to say farewell to him.

But Thel had left his cloak behind.

_Have this._

N'tho considered those words carefully as he limped across the Commandant's office.

Not _take _this, which could be temporary, until the object was taken back. 'Vadamee had said _have_ this. _Have _implied keeping, did it not?

N'tho opened the door and looked both ways. The hall was empty, so he slipped out with a sudden feeling of relief.

And yet, as he walked down the corridors of the War College, heading for the barracks, he found himself feeling lonely. He shuddered and wrapped the purple cape tighter around his body.

It had been Thel 'Vadamee's parting gift.

He wished he had said thank you. Or goodbye.

While he was wishing, he wished the Fleetmaster had not had to leave, though of course he knew why this wish was impossible.

But all of a sudden the cloak no longer seemed so warm, and N'tho felt small, and tired, and very, very alone, because Thel 'Vadamee was gone, and N'tho 'Sraomee had been left behind.

*

N'tho pried open the door of the barracks, listening to the murmur of voices within. The large room within was still dark, illuminated only by the bank of lights over the public area at the room's heart. About half the bunks contained young Sangheili, sleeping off the exertions of the night before; but just as many bunks were empty, and it seemed that most of their occupants were now clustered in the middle of the room, talking excitedly.

N'tho's bunk was on the far end of the room. To reach it, he would have to make his way past the knot of talking Sangheili. N'tho folded the doarmir-fur cloak around his shoulders and decided to pass by as quietly as possible.

But as he made his way towards the group, his hearts sank.

Lor'n 'Malachee was up on top of one of the tables, the better to show off to the assembled young warriors as he regaled them with tales of his graduation night exploits. He spoke loudly enough that N'tho could not help but hear him as he approached. Apparently two females had tied for the top honours at the Finishing School, and both these young ladies had insisted that Lor'n breed with them as well as the initial female who'd caught his eye. According to Lor'n, all the girls were very uninhibited, and had insisted on trying all manner of things…

N'tho wondered to himself just how much of Lor'n's story was true. It wasn't impossible that it could have happened; as the top student of the graduating class, Lor'n would be an appealing mate. On the other hand, Lor'n certainly seemed to be enjoying the gasps of shock and envious growls of his classmates as he regaled them with his story, in which the three females seemed to alternate between happily sharing him (all at once) and competing for his attention by showing off their talents to the utmost. The fact that Lor'n had a natural skill as a warrior did not make him immune to a need to show off his superiority to the other cadets.

N'tho snorted to himself. As if Lor'n, whom N'tho had personally seen fumbling and flustered during their petting sessions, was half the lover that the Supreme Commander of the Fleet of Particular Justice had been.

'Sraomee skirted around the edge of the group, happy to allow his ex-consort to enjoy his limelight in exchange for being left in peace. Lor'n, however, was not content to accept the fact that someone might not be enthralled by his exploits.

"Hey!" Lor'n barked, halting his narrative.

N'tho stopped, turning his head, hoping Lor'n was calling for someone else.

No such luck. Lor'n was looking right at him. N'tho could see the surprise in his eyes as Lor'n recognized him.

N'tho's stomach sank as he noticed that all the other new graduates were now also looking at him. Their expressions didn't seem malicious, merely curious—doubtlessly they'd all been sharing their adventures until Lor'n had stolen center stage.

"Come listen to this," said one of the other cadets, whose name was Ta'ak.

Ta'ak's consort, Xae, chuckled. "Maybe N'tho has a story to beat it," Xae countered.

Ta'ak whispered something into Xae's earbud. Xae squinted and licked his mate.

Lor'n's features twisted with frustration as everyone's attention turned to N'tho.

When N'tho simply stood there, awkward and embarrassed, another Sangheili stepped forward—Khorr 'Refumee, whom N'tho had always considered a bit of a bully. "How about it?" Khorr demanded. "Do you have a story for us, N'tho?"

N'tho stepped back instinctively. How could he talk about what had happened in the Commandant's office? To speak of the Supreme Commander that way was surely a sign of disrespect. Thel 'Vadamee had given him a gift that should not be dirtied by dragging it out in front of everyone. N'tho was in no way ready to talk about an encounter he had not yet come to terms with himself.

But now the spotlight was on N'tho, as all the other cadets expected to hear his answer.

Lor'n was regarding him intently. "Did you have a good time last night?"

"I did," he said, his voice dry, wishing they would turn their attention to someone else.

"That's strange," Lor'n said quietly, his eyes sparkling like those of a predator who'd just scented blood. He jumped off the table and stalked towards N'tho, halting only a pace away, at the edge of the light. Khorr came up beside him on the left, blocking N'tho's path. "Because everyone here told me they didn't see you out at the field last night. In fact, nobody remembers seeing you at all since you got summoned to the Commandant's office. Not even the females."

N'tho stared at Lor'n, aghast. He'd expected that sort of behaviour from Khorr; but for Lor'n to pressure him that way, after being the one to break up with him, was simply cruel.

Khorr snorted. "N'tho's got a story all right…about how it feels to spend graduation night hiding in the sewers so nobody will find out what a loser he is."

Lor'n laughed.

N'tho knew then, beyond any doubt, that he had never loved Lor'n. 'Malachee's words should have been a devastating betrayal; instead they were an irritating annoyance, spoken by a self-centered fool who wanted the spotlight at any cost.

And 'Sraomee was in no mood to play Lor'n's games any longer.

"I don't have to justify myself to you," N'tho said, his voice low, as he took one deliberate step forward into the light.

He heard the other cadets gasp, and he could imagine their mandibles gaping with shock, but all his attention was on Lor'n as he stared into his ex-consort's eyes, daring 'Malachee to say anything.

'Malachee's eyes dropped to N'tho's cape, where the brilliant purple colour of a Fleetmaster's cloak gave a more eloquent answer than N'tho himself ever could. Lor'n's face paled to an ashy grey.

Now N'tho had the undivided attention of every cadet in the barracks. There had been a time when he would have done anything to have earned their goodwill. But now, their attention was like a rotten piece of meat—a tainted prize, a victory not worth having.

"By the Rings…" Khorr whispered, his voice half-choked. "How did you…"

Fleetmaster 'Vadamee's words rose up in N'tho's mind; before he knew it, he was speaking them with his own mouth.

"There are times when a warrior should hold his tongue," he said sternly, looking at Khorr. He added, "Particularly in dealings with superior officers."

Khorr coughed and shrank back to the left. Lor'n stumbled away to the right. N'tho stalked forward between the two of them, the doarmir-fur cloak trailing behind him, as all the other Sangheili stared in amazement.

"He's bluffing," Lor'n said weakly. "There's nothing to tell…"

"That _cloak_," Khorr hissed. "How _else…_"

"Stolen?" Lor'n whispered, then yelped in pain.

N'tho did not bother to look, but Khorr's growled response – _do you want to bring the wrath of the Supreme Commander down upon us? If it was stolen, 'Sraomee will pay in due course – if it was gifted, we could pay for the insult with our careers, or our lives – _made it clear that the aggressive young warrior agreed, for purely selfish reasons, that Lor'n was pressing the issue too far.

Behind him, the murmur of voices rose up again. This time Xae was theorizing about what units they would all be assigned to on the morrow. Ta'ak was trying to get the others to agree to switch units with him if they got put in Xae's unit and Ta'ak didn't.

N'tho had no idea what unit he would be asked to join, but unlike the others, he was in no hurry to find out.

He had not been that particularly close to any of his relatives, save his deceased mother. He had been shuttled from uncle to uncle in a dizzying blur that made it hard to keep friends his own age. Now, he felt a huge gulf opening up between himself and the other Sangheili he had once considered his friends as well as his classmates. Their boasting and banter seemed impossibly juvenile; the envy in their eyes as they had stared at his cloak soured N'tho's memories. He did not care if he was separated from them.

The whole time he had been Lor'n's consort, he had craved the attention of his fellows, and basked in the reflected glow of Lor'n's spotlight. Now he wanted nothing so much as to be left alone.

He rolled over on his side, pulling the soft doarmir-fur over him, and savouring its caress on his skin. It was warm and pleasant and it still smelled of the Fleetmaster…

…but it was not an adequate replacement for a lover.

Thel 'Vadamee would be back on his ship now, bound for who knows where. N'tho did not fool himself into thinking that Thel might be wondering what N'tho was doing right now. What they had shared had been a tryst, not a relationship.

N'tho rolled himself into a ball, trying to ignore the strange sensations in his body and struggling to name the new ache in his soul.

The other graduates might be in awe of N'tho's fine new cloak, but as N'tho 'Sraomee closed his eyes and prayed for sleep, he felt himself envying Ta'ak and Xae, sitting on that bench across the room, holding one another's hands.


	7. Chapter 7: Consolation

**Chapter the Seventh: Consolation**

Usze watched his mate blinking up at him, apparently with no more story to tell.

"So that's it?" Usze asked weakly. "I got the story you wouldn't give your classmates?"

N'tho nodded.

Usze put his arms around his husband and waited, trying to sort out the maelstrom of emotions surging through him. He was upset, very upset, and he didn't know why.

It had to be more than sexual jealousy. Usze knew that N'tho had had lots of mates. He'd even forced himself to _watch _that horrible little movie Epse 'Gamulee had spliced together from security camera footage, images of Nitro with his mates, and he well remembered the twin sensations of disgust at the gratuitous display entwined with fierce possessiveness of the wayward soldier who was apparently his responsibility.

Looking back now, Usze realized that an offhanded assumption by Sergeant Johnson—a presumption that Usze was the senior of the pair and therefore responsible for N'tho's behaviour after he became intoxicated at the hands of Doyle, the Marines' premier bootlegger—was not an order that a Sangheili Blademaster should have been compelled to obey. And yet, somehow, he'd felt obligated to look after N'tho, despite the fact that many of 'Sraom's problems seemed at the time to have been his just deserts for indulging in excesses. Usze had told himself then that having his fellow Honour Guard in combat-worthy condition was in his own best interest – and it had been, because N'tho saved his life several times – but now he admitted that some part of him had simply liked taking charge of N'tho and ordering him around.

And some part of him had simply liked N'tho.

Was it all right, because somewhere along the line it had turned into mutual love?

"Can I ask you," Usze said slowly, keeping his words steady and even, not permitting any hint of the roiling emotion in his mind to taint them, "can I ask you what happened between yourself and the Arbiter during the Halo mission…I mean, when I wasn't around?"

N'tho swallowed. Usze watched the tendons in his long neck flex with the motion. "When we…when we first got to Earth…well, you know I was feeling lonely. And I…" His mandibles churned. "He looks good, you know?"

Usze nodded warily.

"So when we were all camped out in the jungle eating lunch, I was going to ask him if he wanted to…" N'tho didn't say it. He swallowed again and continued, "But when I went to, er, gauge his interest, I heard him telling the Master Chief about how he was in love with Rtas 'Vadum. And I just turned around and walked away." N'tho shrugged. "I didn't want to get in the middle of that. I mean, Rtas was the only superior officer I'd ever had who didn't ask me to fuck him before he would overlook my Mark of Punishment. Trying to seduce his consort is a hell of a way to say _thank you, Rtas_, you know?"

Usze nodded, suddenly relieved.

"Instead, I decided that I would take Private Doyle up on his offer to taste his home brewed liquor in the mess. After a few shots, when he challenged me to chug the whole thing, it seemed like a great idea at the time, and…" N'tho blinked his eyes, suddenly shy. "And the next thing I knew, I woke up in your bunk."

Usze nuzzled his husband, wondering what his past self would have done if he could have seen this far into the future. 'Taham could only shake his head as he remembered how irritated he had been with N'tho, how frustrated, how disgusted….and how intrigued against his own better judgment.

Usze felt a similar mixture of emotions when he thought of how he had been wearing the cloak N'tho gave him…the cloak that had been Thel 'Vadam's parting gift to a young warrior. What had ever made N'tho think a token from a former lover would be an appropriate present for his mate? Usze had two choices—to dwell on it, or to ask the question and be done with it. And, since it was a night for clearing the air between them, he voiced his inquiry. "May I ask you why you gave me that cloak?"

N'tho looked away. "A few reasons, actually." He coughed again. "First, you needed a disguise at the time and that was the only real option at hand…"

Usze nodded. That was true. "But you didn't ask for it back."

N'tho flushed. "Well, er, the second reason is, um, you know that fur kind of turns me on."

Usze felt his face heating up as well. That statement was also true. Every time he walked into the room wearing only the cloak, N'tho had been all over him. And Usze had taken full advantage of the fact.

Then he thought of something and he shifted uncomfortably. "You don't…Nitro…do you pretend I'm….?"

N'tho's eyes widened and he shook his head. "No, Usze, I…."

Usze felt better, but he didn't want to linger on this subject. "You wanted me to keep it so we could play with fur, is that it?"

"And because it's the only thing I had that was worth giving you." N'tho looked ashamed again. "You're a classy guy, Uzi, and I don't have much…I mean…you wouldn't want a Human music player, or a little model of a Ghost…."

Usze blinked, surprised. He kept forgetting that his "arrogant gentleman" persona came with a price attached. N'tho didn't feel any of his things were good enough to make acceptable gifts, and perhaps he still feared he wasn't good enough either.

'Taham eased sideways to lie next to 'Sraom. Uzi leaned his weight on his left elbow so his right hand could stroke N'tho's cheek. "I think I would very much like a little model of a Mongoose. Do you think you could build me something like that?"

N'tho wiped at his eyes. "Yeah, sure I could…a Mongoose?" Their eyes met and suddenly 'Sraom smiled. "In honour of my elite driving skills?"

"In honour of your not obeying orders and saving my hide," Usze murmured, remembering that horrifying incident on the exploding Omega Halo where he'd crashed his Chopper and found himself lying there, injured, as the world came apart around him. N'tho had turned his Mongoose around and come back for him. Usze doubted he would have done the same, not then, and it shamed him now, how he'd treated N'tho. How he'd had no idea what the Minor Domo would come to mean to him.

N'tho was obviously remembering it as well, because his eyes shimmered and his voice sounded thick as he said, "Yeah, I think I could do that."

Usze purred. "And I will get a long, thick fur cloak…black, perhaps …that I can wear around…and to bed with you…"

He hoped N'tho would respond to his overtures, because he was beginning to realize that his jumpsuit was an unwelcome barrier between himself and his unclothed mate.

"I'd like that," N'tho whispered, "sir."

Usze shivered, still feeling odd about N'tho's submissiveness. "We are both Ambassadors, N'tho. You don't need to call me sir," Usze said patiently, wondering if N'tho would ever be able to accept that Uzi didn't want to dominate him, use him, hurt him.

N'tho moaned low in his throat. "But…it feels so good when you take charge…"

Usze's mandibles clicked with sudden realization. He slid his hand under his mate's lower jaws and lifted his head to look into his eyes. N'tho looked up at him as he did so, and he could see the younger male was nervous. "You're telling me you say that because you _want _to?" The idea was bizarre, alien. Usze could barely wrap his mind around it.

N'tho had been forced into a lot of unwanted situations in his life due to the Mark of Punishment he had once worn branded into his hide. The Mark had made him a second-class citizen, though he had done nothing wrong; it had been his grandfather's sins that had resulted in the Marking of his entire family. Usze had accepted that N'tho had been taught, by force, to obey. What he did not understand was why now, when N'tho was a hero and the Mark had been removed, he might _choose _to be submissive. Sangheili society valued power, conquest, and strength—not servitude.

But how much of his story about himself and Thel 'Vadamee had been about N'tho's discovery of how much he liked to submit to another's control?

N'tho was shivering now. "Do you want me to stop it?"

Usze gently licked N'tho's cheek. "Ssssh…relax now." He drew Nitro close and stroked him. "Easy…easy. Let it go." His mate let out a deep sigh and his body relaxed against Usze's, but a small whimper escaped his mouth.

'Taham shifted against his mate, all too aware of both of their arousals. He pressed with his hips to test N'tho's reactions. Nitro made a needy keening noise.

Uzi whispered in his mate's earbud, "Would you like me to take charge of you right now?"

N'tho nodded.

Usze was still uncertain about the power dynamic in their relationship, but if N'tho wanted this as much as he did, he was not going to question it. He eased the bottom zip of his jumpsuit open and, not bothering to shed the rest of the clothing, joined himself with his mate.

Their union was a slow and gradual thing. N'tho panted, eager, but Usze held him down and shushed him. If N'tho really liked being instructed…perhaps that was just as well, because Usze loved control and this meant it was all right if he spent a little time gently tormenting his mate.

"Breathe deeply," Usze murmured as he thrust slowly, gently, entering a little deeper each time.

And N'tho obeyed him, mewling in pleasure, until their union was complete.

Usze rocked back and forth with his mate, and N'tho gasped, "It feels…different…"

"Very slow," Usze murmured. "Very sweet."

"I…" Words failed 'Sraom. Tears crept from his eyes.

Usze used his tongue to sponge them away.

N'tho wrapped his arms around his husband's shoulders, weeping now, and Usze lapped his tears until his mate drew a deep, shuddering breath and started to purr instead.

Usze's poor mate was so starved for affection, and he lapped up everything Uzi gave to him. The only possible response was for Usze to be as generous as he could, lavishing attention on his mate until N'tho felt secure.

It meant, of course, that Usze had to bite down on his mandibles and use every ounce of self-discipline the Ascetic Order had taught him to keep control when his husband hit climax beneath him. Over and over again, Usze gritted his teeth and steeled his nerves and gave Nitro what he needed.

Finally, an exhausted N'tho mumbled, "Usze…I love this…but I…I can't stay awake…jet lag…Africa…"

Usze smiled and permitted himself his own release at last.

When it was done, Usze remained joined to his mate, curled up on top of N'tho, listening to both their hearts thundering.

"Do you still love me?" N'tho asked abruptly.

Usze wrapped his arms tighter around his husband. "Of course I do," he said soothingly, licking his mate's cheek. "Do not ever worry about that."

No, it wasn't Nitro who he was angry with. What else could he have expected? The post-graduation mating night was Sangheili tradition. Usze had done it too, though his experience had been less pleasant.

Was that it? Was he jealous that Nitro had enjoyed himself, whereas Usze had suffered through an extremely awkward encounter with a High Priestess? 'Taham didn't think so. He had been pleasantly surprised not to hear some terrible story of coercion and abuse. N'tho had endured enough of that.

No, N'tho was entitled to have a good time with the best partner he could get, which in this case happened to be an extremely superior officer, and…

N'tho interrupted Usze's musing. "Was it…" N'tho blinked, seeming tired. "Was it because he was my first?"

"No," Usze said gently. "I don't care about that." He curled up closely around his mate. "I'll be all right. _We'll _be all right."

N'tho purred. "I love you, Usze."

"You should go to sleep." He leaned over to whisper in his earbud, "I promise you…we'll have some fun this weekend. Something special."

N'tho grinned.

Usze smiled and bunted his mate. "Rest now."

"You gonna…" N'tho's voice slurred. "…you gonna be here when I wake up?"

There it was.

Pieces fell into place, or some of them, anyway. Thel 'Vadam had taken it upon himself to share something so intimate with N'tho and then he had simply _left_. As though Nitro was nothing more than a pleasant little diversion. And that act had kicked off a long line of leavers, from N'tho's first serious relationship, which had ended when he received the Mark of Punishment and his mate had dumped him because of it, all the way down the series of Sangheili who assumed that Mark meant that N'tho was their plaything to use and discard, until Usze had come along. Usze was still an Ascetic in very many ways, and he took his responsibilities seriously.

Responsibilities. They came with rank. And if one was going to use one's rank to attract the attentions of a junior officer and order him into one's arms, then one should stay to deal with the consequences of those actions. Thel 'Vadam had either failed to anticipate what his deeds had done to N'tho's ideas about relationships and mating, or else he'd not been bothered to address those consequences.

And what about N'tho's responsibility in this matter? Why, he'd only been doing what he'd been taught – that if you want something, whether it be companionship or status or comfort or simply to shut up those who were badmouthing you, all you needed to do was catch the eye of a superior officer. And the worse his situation—the undeserved Mark of Punishment, the scorn of his comrades, the bad reputation he'd racked up—the more outrageous his sexual conduct became.

_Thel 'Vadam had set the whole damned pattern._

And N'tho had been repeating it ever since.

Thick, choking rage rose up in Usze's throat.

Intentional or not – coercively or not – the Arbiter had _hurt his mate_, and Usze 'Taham could not ignore that fact.

Usze swallowed down his fury to respond to N'tho.

"I will always be here for you," he murmured. "I will always be there to protect you. No matter the cost."  
This was no platitude. It was a holy vow.

He would keep it, or die trying.

*

Admiral Rtas 'Vadum stood alone on the cape overlooking the beach, a solitary figure in white armour under a diamond-studded sky.

He had woken from a terrible nightmare, and while he did not wish to think of it, the images continued to intrude into his conscious mind.

He had been back on _Infinite Succor_. The Flood had been everywhere – infection forms, and Pure Forms, and worst of all, the bodies of his former comrades.

They had been his Elites. He should have protected them. Instead, they were broken shadows of their former selves, and he was still alive somehow.

He was the least worthy to be alive. They had done nothing wrong. He had failed them. In some gross miscarriage of judgment, he was spared the Flood's wrath. His men received the punishment for his failing.

The only thing he could do was lash back at the Flood. The only possible salvation left to him was to prevent the Flood from spreading throughout the Fleet of Particular Justice.

And so, Rtas 'Vadum had drawn his energy sword and drove it through the heart of the nearest Flood-infected Sangheili…

Miraculously, the infection had retreated from his fury. It had poured out of the other Sangheili's body, reducing itself to an infection form that scuttled away and popped harmlessly…

…leaving Rtas' blade through Kusovai's left heart.

Kusovai looked up at him with an expression of shock. Rtas recognized his mate too late to take back the blow. Betrayal tinged Kusovai's features; he mouthed the word "Why?" as his knees buckled, and his weight fell forward, driving his body even deeper on the sword that somehow Rtas had forgotten to deactivate, had forgotten how to deactivate.

And the universe spun around Rtas, for he knew in that moment, he could still save the fleet, but his own world had already ended…

Rtas woke up screaming, but Thel had not stirred. Thel had grown far too accustomed to Rtas' nightmares and no longer bothered to react to them.

Unable to sleep, Rtas had come out here to the beach in an attempt to get his thoughts in order.

There was nothing more he could do for Kusovai. There was, perhaps, nothing he ever could have done for Kusovai—how could Rtas have known about the Flood, or that the _Infinite Succor_ mission would go so horribly wrong? How could Rtas have justified leaving his Subcommander, the best Swordsman of all Sangheili, behind, even if he had known?

No, there was only one way Rtas could apologize to Kusovai and the rest of his dead soldiers. There was only one way he could ask their forgiveness for the fact that he had survived and they had not.

He had no choice but to dedicate his life to making a difference to all the other Sangheili soldiers, the ones who were still alive for him to help.

He would defeat the renegade Admiral Xytan 'Jar Wattin. He would keep his promise to Fil Storamy. And he would help his former SpecOps warrior, N'tho 'Sraom.

'Sraom deserved better than to be pressed into service as the sexual plaything of that obnoxious Ascetic, Usze 'Taham. Rtas was not entirely certain that the arrogant, coldhearted ex-Blademaster was truly on their side; perhaps his act of rebellion against the Ascetics had been made for personal reasons. Perhaps it had nothing to do with allegiance to the Arbiter whatsoever.

N'tho 'Sraom had fought too hard to make something of himself, despite his undeserved Mark of Punishment, to spend the rest of his life as Usze 'Taham's thrall.

Rtas 'Vadum smiled, but it was forced, and the only expression to reach his eyes was a cold, predatory glitter.

Tomorrow he would reassign N'tho 'Sraom to Iruiru, far away from Usze's clutches. To Kusovai, he would offer this act of benevolence towards a former SpecOps warrior.

And to himself, he would offer vengeance on Usze 'Taham for what Usze had done with the Arbiter.

_End Part One_

**Author's Note:**

So, it's looking like "Duels of Honour" will be a part of a longer series– two duologies – not just one. The reason for this is because it's become apparent to me that Thel and Rtas are going to need an opportunity to tell their sides of the story, their buried secrets, and their futures.

I write using a technique called "tight third person." Each sequence is told from the point of view of a specific character. Imagine that they are "holding the camera" and filming the world as they perceive it to be. When you're reading their sections, you're getting their interpretations of events, told in their kind of language (which is why N'tho's sections tend to use slang and casual language, while Usze's are more formal) and you're also getting their biases.

People see events in different ways. Rtas, for example, has taken the evidence he's seen and drawn a mistaken conclusion – that Usze seduced Thel during the Halo mission, and that Usze is bullying N'tho. And we know he's got post-traumatic stress and unresolved issues with Kusovai. He's not just being a jerk. But he does have the potential to cause Usze a lot of problems…

The next story in this mini-series is "Duels of Honour: Giving the Blade" where the conflict between Usze and Rtas comes to a breaking point.


End file.
